


Divine Intervention

by WeAllFlyHigh



Series: Old Gods [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, M/M, Old Gods, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23922454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeAllFlyHigh/pseuds/WeAllFlyHigh
Summary: When Arthur’s classmate disappears mysterious circumstances, it falls to him to use his knowledge of the unknown to get him back. But faerie tales and spell books bought at secondhand bookstores can’t prepare him for meeting with This.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia), Austria/Hungary (Hetalia)
Series: Old Gods [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818469
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Want something to listen to? I suggest Hozier's Like Real People Do or From Eden (or the entirety of his first album). Almost solely bc of the line "So I will not ask you, why you were creeping, In some sad way I already know."

_There will be no more night. They will not need the light of the sun. For the Lord God will give them Light, and they will reign forever and ever. - Revelations 22:5_

Arthur always believed there was more to the world than what he experienced. His grandparents blamed it on too much TV. His mother said he had an overactive imagination when he was young and got quieter and quieter about the subject with each passing year. His classmates just said he was crazy. He wasn't.

He never claimed to see things, just that they may exist. After all, could it be mere coincidence that every culture had some dragon like creature in their legends? And even if it was, how was his belief in the supernatural any different than any other person's beliefs? It was like you could believe in miracles and as long as someone hundreds of years ago wrote it down and called it holy you had the makings of a very serious religion.

His beliefs didn't translate into action. Sure, he never went into the supposedly haunted farmhouse on the hill. But he never salted his windows or wore his clothes inside out.

That didn't mean everyone else acknowledged that.

"Come again?"

Elizabeta clenches her jaw. Her glare intensifies as she crosses her arms once more. "You're going to help me get Roderich back."

Arthur fidgets in his desk. She looms over him. Her hands still firmly planted on the mythology book she had plucked from his hands. He's read books where this kind of thing happened, the popular girl asking the outcast to help her with some impossible task. He's even fantasized about it himself. But that was the nature of fiction; it always seemed exciting and the books were tailored for people like him to relate to, but it was simply fiction. He might believe in the supernatural but the most popular girl in his school coming to him for help with a supposedly supernatural event, that was impossible.

Arthur looks up at her. "You're sure he's not already back?"

Her nostrils flare. Elizabeta's known to be a generally nice person but she looks like she'd kill him with a rusty spoon right now. "I am his girlfriend," she hisses. "He would have told me if he hadn't actually been kidnapped."

That's a fair point and she does seem genuinely upset, but still he resists the proposal. "There haven't been any announcements…so maybe his parents didn't think to-"

"They're out of town I swear Kirkland if you don't help me…" She doesn't need to continue her threat for Arthur to believe her. She isn't only pretty; she has proven herself to be deadly on the field.

He nervously clicks his pen. He glances away from her increasingly intense stare. "Yes…I…Ah…Are you sure you shouldn't be going to the police with this?"

"Were you not listening to a word I said? I can't exactly go to the police and say a monster or a giant bird-person stole him. They'll think I'm crazy and they'll arrest me for trespassing and I'll never see him again!" She stamps her foot into the ground and jerks away from his desk. She squeezes her eyes tightly shut. "You have to help me," she says through gritted teeth.

Arthur bites his lip. Elizabeta has dark circles under her eyes and a fresh bandage on her check. Her hair's a mess. He glances again at their classroom door. He hasn't seen any other classmates waiting or their shadows attempting to hide. Perhaps he should… "Well you see…I'm not sure I can."

Her glare intensifies. "What _exactly_ do you mean? Are you a witch, or aren't you?"

"I'm not." He's studied the practice, but he's never done anything. Even if his family wouldn't immediately call a priest if they thought he was doing magic, he wouldn't know where to start.

All the color drains Elizabeta's face. She gapes at him for a few minutes. Then her hands slam down onto his desk. His heart jumps up into his throat. She leans down close to him. Her long brown hair nearly brushes his forehead. Her green eyes burn. "But you can help me."

He leans back into his seat. "I can try."

"Good." She stands up and gives him the barest hint of a smile. It's still more of a threat than anything else. "Meet me in the parking lot behind the gym at dusk." She picks her bag off the floor and swings it up onto her back in one smooth motion.

Arthur scrambles out of his desk, nearly tripping over his own bag. "Dusk?"

She stops mid-turn to shoot him a disbelieving look. "Yes, at dusk. These things don't even come out until it's night." Her head tilts to the side. "Don't they?"

"Possibly." With what little he knows about the kidnapping, and the very real possibility that his knowledge could be more limited than he thought, there could be any number of culprits. And if he considers that 'the monster' Elizabeta had seen could have more than evil intentions in mind, the possibilities could be endless. "But isn't it a better idea to meet before heading in?"

Elizabeta's hands land on her hips as she turns to fully face him. "What more is there to discuss? We go in. We get Roderich out."

"How?"

"Violence." There's a gleam in her eyes that promises not just violence but extreme violence. It makes something Inside Arthur squirm with nerves.

Arthur tilts his head in acknowledgement of her terrifying dedication. "Maybe a more measured approach would be better?"

"Oh, like negotiate?" She snorts. "They could eat him."

Arthur sighs. She has a point there but if he is going to do this, he wants to do it right. "What could eat him Elizabeta? What is it? Do we need silver, garlic, holy items to get him back?"

She looks away from him, biting down on her lip. "Ok. Meet me at 5?"

Arthur nods. "I'll be there."

_Five O'clock_

"Ok. Once more, tell me what happened."

Elizabeta sits on the hood of her dusty green car. A large leather bag is splayed across her lap. Her uniform has been replaced with jeans, a white tank, a battered jacket, and mud stained sneakers. He's never seen in anything but uniforms and on occasion delicate dresses. She's even forgone her normal hair style and has her hair back in a tight ponytail. Her appearance only adds to the surreal feeling of wrongness.

She leans towards Arthur as he stands a good foot away. She takes a deep breath and begins. "Roderich and I went up to The House on the Hill. We were talking and he brought out his violin. He played a few songs and then we started hearing these weird noises. I thought someone was just being a perv, creeping around."

"You didn't think it was a ghost?"

"No. Why would there be a ghost?"

Arthur pauses at that. Hasn't she heard the stories? Arthur's older brothers had made sure to tell him often and with great joy about the horrible things that had happened in that house. "Well, it's supposed to be haunted?"

Elizabeta snorts. "No one actually believes that. Everyone just says it is so that no kids come up and see anyone doing it."

Arthur's checks heat. It had never occurred to him that anyone would want to have sex in a building like that even if nothing haunts it. But something is there, he thinks. "What happened next?"

The fleeting amusement in her eyes disappears. "So, we started packing up. And Roderich holds the door open for me and lets me out first. I heard this noise from the woods, so I went forward yelling and when I turn to look…back…" Elizabeta wrapped her arms around herself. "There's this thing with black wings and red eyes. And it's got Roderich. And the door shuts. I tried to open it, but it just won't budge. I got in through a window but…he was already gone." She swallows her grief as her lips tremble, refusing to cry.

Arthur gnaws on his lip. That's a decent start, but not enough to come up with a good strategy. He moves closer so he could lean against her car.

"And you didn't see anything else?" Elizabeta shakes her head. "Can you describe the noises you heard."

Elizabeta sniffs and straightens her back. "Creepy people outside noises. No howling winds or rattling chains."

"So, footsteps and voices then?"

"No…like branches being knocked into windows. And…ah…maybe some clattering from the roof." She says the last part guiltily. He doesn't know if he would have done anything differently in her place, even knowing what he knows about the supernaural. He drums his fingers on the car roof.

"So, it likely came from above you. Do you think that it came through a window or that it was already there?"

"We've been there before, and nothing ever happened." She shifts. "Maybe it came from upstairs. The stairs have some pretty big gaps, so I've never been up there."

Arthur sighs. His classmates went to the place regularly and yet something like this had never happened before. There has to be some trigger. "Had Roderich played there before?"

"Yes." Her checks take on a light dusting of pink. "He likes to play for me."

Well that as good as knocked all his theories out. They were just going in blind and dumb then. "Alright here," Arthur says reluctantly. He hands her a collection of crosses and roseries.

Elizabeta raises an eyebrow as she takes them. "That's a lot of crosses."

He can't argue with her there. His mother is very Catholic. His father is very much not. Arthur falls somewhere in between which is far too used to seeing crsses about the house and is also not above stealing them away for things that would make his grandmother collapse in shock.

"Well, they're the suggested solution for devils."

"The Devil took him?"

"A devil," he corrects, "probably. We don't have a lot to go on. It could also be a member of the fair folk. So as a precaution: don't say thank you or give them your real name."

"I'm not going to thank the thing that stole my boyfriend."

"Just be careful." It does sound like silly advice when she says it like that. "Do you know the prayer to the archangel Michael?"

"I can learn it." She slides off her car's hood. "Now are you ready for some monster hunting or are we just going to talk all night?"

"Elizabeta, I have to warn you-"

"I know what I'm getting into." She reaches into her leather bag and withdraws a frying pan. She smacks it off the palm of her hand. "Your parents have cult like number of crosses, my mom has a cooking obsession. And I have a lot of experience with weaponizing these things." Arthur blinks at her. He's not going to argue that. He's seen her swing before.

She slides off the hood and into the driver's seat. Arthur goes around to the other side and does the same. He waits to hear two clicks as their seatbelts lock before he starts.

"I know that you know this but... I just…I don't know if we'll find anything tonight." She nods with a grimace.

They peel out of schools parking lot and down winding roads. They're familiar to him as they are to everyone else in their town. He braces himself for the pothole outside the gas station and loses himself in thought. It should not take long to reach their destination. Yet it feels like forever and like no time at all. He catches glimpses of the house through the trees before they arrive. His heartbeat picks up. Something flutters inside his throat.

He knows that you're supposed to feel something in a haunted house. The feelings can vary. You can feel a pressure, a looming presence, or unexplainable dread. There could even be cold spots or phantom touches. But you're supposed to _know_.

He doesn't know what to make of the old farmhouse. It's got maybe ten years left before the whole thing collapses in on itself. It's already a hazard being slowly devoured by vines. Elizabeta walks toward it like she's storming into a scheduled beat down in her living room. She's not afraid of this place or anything she might find inside.

His heart skips a beat. "Wait! Elizabeta," he yells as stumbles out of car.

She stops so suddenly little clouds of dust are kicked up. "I swear if you're backing out now Kirkland, you will be haunting this place."

"You said you went in through a window."

"Yes." She brushes a hand over her ponytail as she looks back to the house. With her other hand she flips the frying pan. Then she freezes and her breath hitches as she realizes what Arthur is about to ask.

The words catch in Arthur's throat for a moment. He has to force them out. "Did you leave through the door?"

"No," she whispers.

The door stands wide open. Scratches run up and down its length. Some of them are decades old and others could have been added moments ago. It's mostly a collection of teenage boredom: initials inside hearts, phone numbers, and random symbols. A thought whispers in Arthur's mind, they know not what they do. Symbols even ones naively drawn can have power.

At a particularly hard gust of wind the door rattles. They both jolt.

"Did you…"

"It wouldn't open. I tried," Elizabeta answers.

"Ok." Loose stones crunch and tumble away as they walk up to the house. The wooden steps groan under their feet, each noise winding Arthur up tighter and tighter. They both hesitate as they cross through the doorway. Elizabeta's hand cautiously hovers in front of her as if she can stop anything that might swoop down.

She quickly scans the room, looking for clues. For his part, Arthur doesn't know what to look at first. The room's far larger than he had expected. Large gatherings of dust cling to the corners of the room but the teenage mischief has kept the place far cleaner than he had expected. The stairs are collapsing. Only a few are left clinging to the very top and bottom of the staircase. There are no blood stains, new or old, or any trace left of Roderich that he can ascertain.

Once she's in the middle of the empty room and nothing has attacked them Elizabeta turns to face Arthur. She plants a hand on her hip and gestures with the frying pan. "Let's split up."

"Are you serious?" The something in his throat feels like it will burst out at any moment. What kind of Scooby Doo horror movie logic is this?

"Yes. I was maybe three steps in front of Roderich when it…I don't think being in the same room is going to stop it."

He stares at her aghast, but she doesn't so much as flinch. He casts his hands upwards. "Fine," he concedes. He doesn't like it, but she might just leave him behind if he disagrees.

She goes into the next room to the right without hesitation. Arthur lingers. He circles the room examining the ceiling. He can see no lights or stars through the few gaps he can find. As far as he can tell there's no way to get into the house from above. He peers into a doorway under the stairs. It's a closet with nothing more interesting inside than a small pile of trash. With nothing else left to examine he goes into the next room.

The only furniture in the room are chairs that all lay on their side. An empty cracked frame hangs crookedly on the wall. The window is broken. All of these are things he'd been more or less expecting, but there's a thin line of red clinging to the shattered glass. It has to be where Elizabeta came through.

A shiver passes through him. It has nothing to do with the cold breeze flowing inside and everything to do with the thin red line. It makes the situation even more real. He'd thought he'd already accepted that, but that shred of solid proof is hard to swallow. It's just a little bit of truth to tip the scales of his emotions from caution to worry. It's somehow even worse because there's no other sign of what happened in here.

He pulls a rosary from his pocket. His fingers run over the body of Christ. He whispers, "Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil."

He's stepping onto the cracked tile of the next room when he hears the scream. He jerks back. His feet fly towards the doorway. He trips over a chair in his rush. The scream stops abruptly. He stumbles into the first room.

Elizabeta's frying pan is raised defensively over her head. She is not alone.

A man stands in front of her. He's tall with broad shoulders and blonde hair. His arms are outstretched towards Elizabeta. Arthur can hear the low sound of his voice but can't make out the words.

"E- Eliza!" He stumbles on her name.

The man stops speaking. He cranes his head back towards Arthur. As soon as blue eyes lock with Arthur's green, his arms fall to his sides. Arthur's heart pounds. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Elizabeta snaps. The man drags his eyes back to her.

Arthur slowly approaches them. The man is younger than he thought at first, but still at least several years older than them, probably a college student. He's wearing a sports jacket for a team called the Free Eagles and jeans.

"I asked you first." He says it almost like this is joke. Maybe it is to him. For all he knows they're just two high schoolers in an abandoned building. Maybe here thinks they came here for their kicks, maybe that's what he's doing.

Elizabeta lowers her frying pan and taps it repeatedly on her thigh. "I get that you think you can take charge because you're the adult here," she says the last part in a high-pitched mocking tone. "But you can't. So just explain yourself."

"I'm the adult here?" The man glances over at Arthur. He blinks rapidly behind his glasses "Oh hell, I am the adult here."

Elizabeta and Arthur glance at each other. Perhaps they're overreacting. Elizabeta frowns as she looks back at the man.

He's still watching them. His head is cocked to the side and his nose is wrinkled. Arthur attempts a smile. "I'm sorry. You startled us. I'm Oliver and this is Eliza. Who are you?"

The man clicks his tongue. He eyes Arthur intently, presumably already having done so to Elizabeta before he arrived. His tongue darts out to run along his bottom lip. He takes so long to answer that Arthur begins to think he won't. "Well," the stranger stretches the word out. "You can call me Al or Alfred, not AJ though because everyone always starts…" He cuts himself off with a chuckle. He rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry. I'm rambling. I guess you startled me too."

Arthur circles his arm around Elizabeta's waist. She flinches slightly before leaning into his lie. "Yes, it's an easy thing to happen in a seclude house like this. Not many people come up here for no reason." They both stare at him meaningfully.

Alfred chuckles again. "This place is a lover's lane? Oh man…"

"Yeah. So, seeing as you're here alone maybe you should come back later?"

Now that he's started Alfred can't seem to stop laughing at everything they say. "Nah. Unless you have some kind of Jesus fetish I don't you two are up here for that." Arthur sputters. Alfred beams. "So, what are you up here for?"

Elizabeta knocks Arthur's arm off of her. "That's none of your business. Maybe we just like to hang out in creepy old buildings."

"Yeah try again."

"We're looking for a devil," Arthur admits. He doesn't know why he said it. Doesn't even question it. It's… just, he feels like it's ok to tell him, that he can trust him.

"Kirkland, what are you doing," Elizabeta hisses between her teeth.

Alfred's posture shifts from a relaxed slouch to a fully upright alert. "A devil? Dude…just what have you gotten yourself involved in."

"We…I… there's been sightings of a creature with black wings and red eyes. The rumors say it's a devil, so we'd thought we'd take a look. No harm done."

Alfred whistles low. He rocks back and forth on his heels. "Oh sure, fuck around with devils. No harm done. Just good old-fashioned teenage fun."

"I don't appreciate your tone."

Alfred shrugs. "And I don't appreciate you lying to me."

"We are not lying," Elizabeta insists.

Alfred looks at her. Only then does Arthur realize that he's hasn't taken his eyes off him until now. "Maybe not about everything. But you're definitely not telling the whole truth." Alfred waves a hand like he's lazily knocks away a bug. "Anyways, you're wrong."

They're wrong? About what exactly and how would he know that? Elizabeta seems to be thinking the same thing. She looks over at Arthur and he glances at Alfred in turn. He's still standing there without a care in the world, just waiting for them to grovel. It sets Arthurs teeth on edge, but he doesn't have a choice. Everything he had pointed towards a devil.

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused," Alfred says with a smile.

Elizabeta crosses her arms and huffs. "Explain," she demands the frying pan still in hand.

Alfred scratches his cheek. He looks so relaxed about the whole thing. He clicks his tongue. "Well I mean I can see why you thought devil, but no."

"That's what you believe," Elizabeta says at the same time Arthur goes, "You know more?"

Alfred grins. "Yeah I do." They wait for him to continue. He watches them watch him. "I'm not going to tell you anything."

"Why not?"

"You're like thirteen." Alfred says with a shrug and a half-hidden grin that they can all see.

Anger rises quickly inside of Arthur. Alfred sounds infuriately like Arthur's brothers. "We are obviously not thirteen."

"Ten."

"Sixteen," Arthur hisses. Alfred's eyes are practically sparkling.

"Not the point," Elizabeta snaps. "Tell us what you know."

"I can't do that. I have no idea what you'd do with that information and no offense but I'm not exactly confident in your decision-making process. Points for the frying pan though. It's very…spunky and creative. I like it."

"We're already involved," Arthur says.

"It took my boyfriend." Elizabeta's eyes are hard and flinty. Her fists shake at her sides.

"Shit." Finally, Alfred's grin is gone. He rubs the back of his neck again. He sighs heavily. "When did that happen?"

Elizabeta juts out her chin. "Why should I tell you if you're not going to share what you know."

Alfred groans, it's a full body motion. His eyes run up and down them again. He crosses his arms and begins to pout. "Fine." Both high schoolers let out a pleased puff of air, eager for some more solid answers. They wait for him to continue but Alfred only kicks at some pebbles on the ground.

"So… it's not a devil," Arthur prompts.

Alfred nods. He waves his hand vaguely. "Yeah, more of a spirit connected to or is the embodiment of an attribute of the world or a concept of humanity."

Elizabeta's face twists in confusion. "A spirit with attributes…" An idea sparks in Arthur's head. It's not a ghost if it can be an embodiment and it's not a devil. That's not necessarily a good thing but perhaps it's something that could be reasoned with. He thinks back to his book in the back of Elizabeta's car.

"That sounds like a kami to me," he says. After a prompting look from Elizabeta Arthur continues. "It's a Shinto belief. It doesn't quite fit into the western religious concepts, but they're sacred spirits, not gods..."

"It's a god," Alfred interrupts.

"Come again."

Alfred chuckles rocking back on his heels. "Yeah I didn't really want to freak you out. But a god totally took your boyfriend."

Elizabeta's eyes go wide as her jaw drops. "What?"

"Yeah, see what I mean about freaking out?" Alfred's smile is back.

A chill runs down Arthur's spine. "What god? I'm not familiar with any red eyed gods."

Alfred rolls his eyes. "Because every story ever told is completely accurate," he mumbles. "He's an old god."

"Like human sacrifice old?" Elizabeta's voice is high and shrill.

Alfred blinks rapidly like the idea had never even occurred to him. "No. I'm sure your boyfriend is fine."

Elizabeta marches towards Alfred. She must raise herself up onto her toes to get in his face. "And that's why you swore when we told you he was taken?"

Alfred leans away from her. He looks off to the side at nothing but the dust. "They won't hurt him. But I need to find them."

"Them?"

"I doubt he's alone."

Arthur bites his tongue. He's missing something here. Alfred is hiding something, but he doesn't think it's a malicious omission. Perhaps he's trying to protect them from the truth. In the end it doesn't matter. "Why do you think that?"

"Experience." That's a surprise to both of the high schoolers. Just what brings a college student to have experience with gods? Arthur's heart skips a beat.

"What kind of experience?"

Alfred looks at him. He rakes his teeth over his lips. "It's kind of my job."

The plots of a thousand books and movies run through Arthur's head. This day has turned into a collection of impossibilities. "So, you're a… hunter?"

Apparently, Alfred thinks that they have interrupted his work for too long. He backs away from Elizabeta and starts circling the room. Arthur watches every graceful movement. There is a bounce in his step as he examines the surroundings. "I mean I guess."

"Well who thought Supernatural would be the one to be accurate," Arthur mumbles.

Alfred chuckles. He looks over his shoulder with a smile. "Yeah, I have no idea what you're talking about but ok."

"That just makes it more accurate." Elizabeta pinches the bridge of her nose.

"How can we help?"

Alfred spins around. "Oh no. You're not doing anything. Go home or go somewhere else and have a date."

"No," the two teenagers say in tandem.

"Yes." He says firmly. Then he smiles pointing his thumb at his chest. "Leave it to me. I'll be your hero."

"No. That's bullshit." Elizabeta places her hands on her hips. She stares at Alfred without flinching. "He's my boyfriend and I'm not going to stay home and wait for him to come back safe."

Alfred looks at Arthur. He shakes his head. "I'm already involved."

"Oh my gods… Why now?" Alfred grimaces. He gestures widely with his hands. "Listen, he's not in any danger, I'll bring him back safe, but the more people involved the more things can go wrong."

"That's really not reassuring."

Elizabeta scoffs. "Why should we believe that you going in alone is any safer for everything?"

Alfred groans again. "Well I'm not exactly… human."

Arthur blinks. He starts to go numb.

"What," Elizabeta says.

"I'm a…being connected to an attribute of the world."

Elizabeta drops her frying pan. It chatters on the ground loudly but doesn't shake away the sense of vertigo hitting Arthur. "You seriously expect us to believe you're a god?"

Alfred lifts an eyebrow. "Uh, yeah."

Elizabeta runs her hands over her hair. She drops her hands. She stamps her foot down. "Prove it."

Alfred shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. "You really don't want me to do that."

"You don't look anything like a god."

"You're not exactly an expert on the subject. I mean, how many gods have you even seen before?" Arthur looks at Alfred as he and Elizabeta trade barbs. There is something there, a feeling of something not quite right. It's his eyes, Arthur thinks. They are a dazzling shade of blue. When Arthur looks at them from just the right angle he caught a glimpse of an unnatural shade, an almost inhuman glint.

"I believe you."

Elizabeta spins around to face Arthur. "Seriously?"

"Yeah…" Arthur sighs deeply. He's not sure how to explain it and so he doesn't try to. He just knows it's the truth.

Elizabeta racks a hand over her face. She sighs and gestures to Alfred. "I mean what are you supposed to be the god of… interruptions?"

Alfred laughs. "Well I do tend to interrupt peoples plans. But no. I," he waves his arms dramatically, "am the God of New Beginnings." He pauses as if waiting for their astonishment, praise, or applause.

"Seriously?"

"Yep." Alfred's smile is bright and proud.

Arthur almost laughs. New beginnings, it sounds very grand. He's not sure how that translates to action. Godly domains could often be described as very wide and extremely vague. "Well that doesn't sound very helpful at all."

Alfred is by Arthur's side in a moment. "Dude! Rude! I am totally useful. I'm a hero. Seriously, why are you so mean?" His voice is much louder than necessary. When neither of them rush to beg his forgiveness he pouts at them.

The sight actually makes Arthur laugh. A god pouting like a petulant child. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to be rude. I find manners are the utmost concern to me right now when I start my quest to piss off a bunch of gods and come out alive."

Alfred's lips twitch up into a smile. "You know, I don't really believe you."

"Well then you're not the God of Fools," he says flippantly.

"Hey! Back on track you two. So, you're the God of Change. Great. Good for you. I'm still not going home."

"Are you serious?" She doesn't even bother to answer. She just stares him down. "Fine. Fine. I have an idea on how you can help but I can't guarantee it'll work."

Elizabeta scoops her frying pan off the ground. She uses her jeans to brush it off. Then she flicks some hair away from her face. "I'm fine with that. Nothing's been guaranteed to me since this began."

"If you and…."

"Roderich."

"Roderich are…" He waves his hands. "Let's say bound by fate I might be able to tap into that."

Bound by fate? The impossibility of the day has started to lose its overwhelming advantage over Arthur's thoughts. In its place, a sense of excitement starts building. "Bound by fate?"

Alfred is quick to explain. "It's not a love thing. It doesn't mean you two are destined to live happily ever after or that you'll end up as bitter enemies and all that stuff. It's… some people are just meant to meet for better or for worse. Fate can be kind of fickle like that."

"What do I have to do?"

"Just cooperate with me." He reaches into his coat and pulls out a small bottle. He brings the little glass vial to his mouth and whispers to it. As he brings it away the contents glimmer. Arthur's hand reaches out. He grasps Alfred's arm before he realizes what he's done. Alfred moves closer. He shifts his grip letting Arthur drink in the sight. After a few minutes he shrugs Arthur's hand away.

"Here," he says tossing it to Elizabeta. She catches it against her chest. "Don't take it just yet." He takes a hold of Elizabeta's shoulders and guides her towards the center of the room. He brings out a stick of chalk and crotches down at her feet. Arthur follows after them. He watches over Alfred's shoulder as he draws shapes on the floor. The chalk is blurry on the old wooden floor. Sweeping lines take shape and hide little symbols under their arches. He tosses the chalk in the air with a flourish. He grins up at Arthur. "Does it meet your standards?"

Arthur rolls his eyes as he stands. He brushes the dust off his hands. "No doubts," he asks Elizabeta.

"No."

Alfred nods. "Come on," he says reaching out to Arthur. He pulls him a few feet away. "Once this starts, you should stay still. I don't do this very often and we really don't want to end up chasing after someone else." Elizabeta's nods stiffly.

Alfred steps forward. He glances at Arthur and motions for him to stay behind him. He withdraws another object from his jacket. He holds it up so that the metal reflects the light. Elizabeta's shoulders tense. "It'll just be an occasional prick, harmless but draining." Alfred chews his bottom lip. Arthur catches a glimpse of his blue eyes. "If you don't want to do this that's ok. It might not work."

Her breath shutters. "Do it."

"Lead the way."

She shoots back the concoction. Then she thrusts her hand out. It thumps against Alfred's chest. He chuckles and takes her hand in his. He lifts a thin needle up and pricks her finger. They all watch breathlessly as blood wells up. Alfred runs his fingers down her finger coaxing more and more out. A drop tumbles down into the air. Their eyes follow it.

A spark springs to life where it lands. Another drop falls and more sparks rise. They catch on something Arthur can't see. A light bursts to life in her hand. It does not flicker and move like a flame. It's steady and points straight.

Elizabeta looks to Alfred. He smiles back at her. He holds her hand firmly as her body shutters. She brings her other hand up to muffle sobs as she begins to cry.

He slips a hand into her pocket and retrieves her keys. He tosses them to Arthur without looking.

Arthur goes soundlessly to start the car. When it springs to life, it starts to hit him. Alfred, the God of New Beginnings. Well he was certainly experiencing something new today. He'd begun the day with no more contact with the supernatural than a library book could provide and now he's going to hunt down an old god. The question is, how will this end?

He trusts Alfred but he has no reason to. So many legends end less than happily. They might arrive too late. He rests his head on the steering wheel. He breathes in and out as evenly as possible.

They emerge a few minutes later. Tears are still smeared across Elizabeta's cheeks, but her eyes have dried. She carefully climbs into the passenger seat, keeping her hand with the light open and raised.

Alfred takes the wheel and rolls down the window to rest his arm on the ledge. Arthur takes the backseat. There is no discussion of where they are going or what they will do when they arrive. The radio turns on with none of them lifting a finger. The cold night air beats against Arthur's face.

He can't keep his eyes away from the god. A million questions buzz through his head. There's so many pantheon's, so many legends to sift through. There are nearly as many creation myths as there are people. Which of them is right? How much of it is the same events interpreted through different lenses. What is it like to die? Is Alfred immortal?

Blue eyes clash with his green in the rear-view mirror. Alfred winks at him.

Hours later when the light starts to flicker and fade, Arthur reaches up from behind and takes Elizabeta's hand. Her job is to focus on Roderich and it's his to reopen her little wound. He only stabs himself once. An event that nearly ruins the whole ritual. Elizabeta jerks when he gasps and Alfred swerves as he leans closer.

"Sorry, sorry," Arthur mumbles around his finger. Elizabeta grumbles as she regains her focus. She lifts her feet onto the dashboard. Alfred slowly relaxes back into his car seat. He taps his fingers on the wheel. "Is there something you want to say?"

"Do you want to see who you're connected to?"

Arthur huffs at his teasing. "Why does it matter if fate is as fickle as you claim?"

Alfred gives him a smile for that. "I said it can be fickle."

Arthur buries himself behind an old quilt folded beside him. It smells like old perfume and grass. "I'd have to drink that concoction of yours, so no thank you."

"Come on Artie, I bet it's hardly the worse thing you've ever tasted."

"Shut up," Arthur hisses. He glances over at Elizabeta. She seems absorbed in her task. She hasn't moved except for the deepening wrinkle on her forehead. "Perhaps I don't want to know."

"Fair enough. Maybe you're better off not knowing."

Arthur hums as he rests his head on the window.

They drive for hours. Pink creeps onto the skyline as it gradually lightens. Arthur watches breathlessly. His eyes burn but he doesn't feel like he is capable of closing them.

"Alfred. Alfred what's happening? Is Roderich ok?" Elizabeta's voice breaks through the early morning haze. Arthur looks over to see her leaning over her arm rest. Her light is barely visible. Arthur reaches out with the needle. Alfred's arm shoots across the space between the seats to block him.

"Yeah, he's fine. The spell is just fading. We should find a place to sleep."

"What? We can't afford to stop." Elizabeta's other hand cups her light. It doesn't slow the fading.

"Trust me we can. You do not want to do this twice a day." Elizabeta frowns over at him. "We'll start again as soon as the sun goes down. Then we'll be all ready to go when we catch up to them." Her eyes are watering again but she accepts his words.

They find a little motel right off the road by the time the birds reach their full chorus. Alfred bounds up to the counter. He's still as full of energy as he was at the beginning. Arthur and Elizabeta stand listlessly in the lobby clutching their backpacks. The clerk eyes them suspiciously but Alfred's grin never faulters.

"Yes sir. Yes, he's my brother…" He weaves an excuse for them that Arthur completely misses. It takes far more focus to stay upright. "Thank you."

Alfred leads them out of the lobby and to their room. Two beds barely fit in the room. There's only a narrow strip of carpet between them. The chair in the corner is almost on top of the TV stand. The air conditioner rattles noisily. The room is ice cold. It's almost soothing, he's so tired.

Elizabeta goes to the bathroom without a word. Arthur stumbles to the nearest bed. The blankets feel stiff and thin. The drapes may be made of the same material. II only dims the sunlight. He drags a pillow on top of his head.

He dimly recognizes the sound of the shower turning on. Something tugs on his foot. His head shoots up. The pillow falls to the floor.

"Something wrong?" Alfred chuckles. He's crouching over Arthur's feet. Half his laces are undone.

Arthur's tongue feels thick in his mouth. "You…I wasn't expecting?"

"Don't worry about it." His shoes fall to the floor. Alfred climbs up beside him. "Come on lie down. I promise to behave. Do you not want me to behave?"

Arthur lays back down groaning into his remaining pillow. His eyes are already closing. "That is not funny."

"Oh?"

A blanket is drawn up to his shoulders. He can't think of anything more comfortable than this bed. Time drifts as he starts to lose consciousness. He can feel Alfred move beside him. It rouses him just enough so that he speaks. "I know what happens to morals who sleep with gods."

Arthur is asleep before Alfred can reply.

**End of part one**


	2. Chapter 2

**"Now I am become death the destroyer of worlds." Bhagavad Gita**

* * *

_Arthur lay back cushioned by the most comfortable chaise longue imaginable. He held a shimmering orb aloft. It omitted a gentle glow. He twisted his wrist and watched the colors inside flash and swirl._

" _What's that?"_

_Arthur twisted his head to face the intruder. Wide blue eyes gazed back at him completely unashamed. "What are you doing in here?"_

" _I asked you first."_

" _You intruded." Alfred ignored his words and crawled into Arthur's lap. He laid his back against Arthur's chest. He brought his hands up to hover around Arthur's. "Don't you recognize it?"_

" _Should I?"_

" _You were born from things like this. It's a dream."_

_Alfred turned in his lap. Arthur had to adjust himself to avoid a collision. It would have been a painful change of position head they not been so practiced at it. Alfred leaned his forehead against Arthur's. "A dream? Come on, tell me the truth."_

_Arthur rolled his eyes. "Do you ever think that there are some things you might be better off not knowing about?" Alfred smiled and tilted his head. His breath smells like sugar. They're so close he could feel the warmth of his lips. He knows their taste. If he just tilted his head the slightest bit…_

" _No."_

_Arthur crushed the light in his fist. "I can't tell if you're joking or not."_

_Alfred broke through the circle of Arthur's arms. He stood laughing. "How about you don't worry about it and spend more time with me and less sitting alone in here."_

_Arthur sighed and followed Alfred. He wrapped his arms around the youngers waist and pulled him close. He buried his face in Alfred's neck. His lips brushed his warm skin as he whispered. Alfred tilted his neck exposing more of skin to Arthur's attentions. "How could I ever deny you my precious little time."_

* * *

Arthur feels the phantom touch of fingers running through his hair. A beam of light pierces through the drapes and hits his closed eyes. He winces. He rolls over planting his face in the pillow to try to escape back into sleep but it's too late.

Before he opens his eyes, he knows Alfred is gone. The disappointment weighs heavily on his chest. He's not even surprised. He may have even done the same thing in his place. Not that he'll accept this.

He rubs his eyes and looks around the room. Elizabeta is still asleep and tangled in her hair. His backpack is still waiting at the end of his bed. He twists inside the stiff sheets reaching for it. It takes what would be an embarrassing amount of time to reach it if anyone had been awake to see him. He digs through past reference books and rosaries. There are no spare clothes or toiletries as he hadn't been planning to ravel cross country. At the very bottom of the bag his phone waits. There are many, many notifications waiting for him. He hadn't called home last night or sent a text, but he'd received plenty.

He falls back onto the bed. It's unlikely he'll be able to talk his way out of this without a lot of grief. It's well past noon. He's hours away from home and can't even say where he is. His only hope of alleviating his parents rage is still asleep.

The question remains, what does he do now? He doesn't think Alfred has totally abandoned them. It makes no sense that he would have bought them a room for the night. It would have been much easier to leave them on the side of the road or to have pulled a trick back at the house and never have taken them anywhere. So, Arthur assumes that he'll be back. They could wait here. It would be the safer option.

But he doesn't want to wait. Arthur closes his eyes to think. He may not know much about these Old Gods but he has some ideas. The devilish one isn't alone. He doubts they know they're being followed. Even if they do, they probably don't know how close they are. Elizabeta gave them that advantage. So, he can assume that their behavior at the haunted farmhouse is normal for them. It's possible that Roderich's music can lure them out. Not that will help them now.

Arthur swings his feet over the edge of the bed. In the bathroom there's two toothbrushes and combs. It's further proof that Alfred has thought of them. Although he still left them with the motel's shampoo. He takes a cold shower because there's not enough hot water to last more than two minutes and gets ready. His clothes are a mess, but they'll have to do.

Elizabeta is still asleep when he's done. He tries to stay quiet. He needs as much of a plan as he can gather before he wakes her up. She's going to be furious at first no matter what he says. He pulls the drape back just enough to look out on the parking lot. The car is still there, which is both good and bad. It gives them a way to follow Alfred and to go home.

He lets the drape fall down and calls Elizabeta's name. At first, she curls up and tries to ignore him but by the third call she shoots abruptly upwards. He jumps back as her arm comes entirely too close to his face. She sills, staring at nothing, and blinking slowly. Then she starts to smile so wide and stiffly that he's almost terrified. She slowly pushes her hair out of her face and turns her head towards him like they're in a horror movie. "Kirkland, what's going on? Is it time to go?"

"You could say that." She's much more graceful than he was as she gets up. She digs through her purse and pulls out a small hairbrush. She cracks her neck and starts brushing her hair. "What are these beds made out of? I feel like I'm like seventy years old. Seriously, I don't think I've ever slept worst." When her hair starts to lay flat she heads toward the bathroom. "Did Alfred go to get breakfast? Well I guess it would be lunch by now."

"He's gone."

She spins back to him. All her initial morning fury has come back. "What?"

"He left before I woke up." She throws her brush across the room and swears up and down. He lets her blow off some of steam, but he doesn't want her to start screaming. "I have a plan. I'm going to tell my family I'm working on a something with you. In the meantime, take a shower and we'll regroup."

"No way. You tell me what the plan is now."

"We're going to follow him." He says it like it's obvious.

"And how are we going to do that?"

"He left the car."

"Do you know where he went?"

"I have a few guesses. Either way he's had a few hours start so it's not like a shower will make any difference." She doesn't say anything to that but she goes. She takes probably the shortest shower to ever occur and comes back much more subdued, whether that's the effect of the water or a couple minutes of thought he doesn't know.

"I swear I am going to strangle him." Or maybe it's murderous intent.

"I don't know if that would have any effect on him."

"It would make me feel better." She sighs deeply and runs her hands up and down her arms. "So what's the plan?"

"Follow me."

Despite that sun having been up for hours the reception room is just as dark as when they first arrived. The front desk clerk already looks like they're dying of boredom as Arthur approaches them. "Good morning," he says with as much enthusiasm as he can muster. He thinks of Alfred's bright smile and the effect it has on him and tries to copy it. "We're urban explores. We came to photograph the abandoned buildings around here. Would you mind giving us some directions?"

Their eyes skim over the two teens. "We came with our friend. But he already left without us."

"He's such an airhead." None of the anger in Elizabeta's voice is faked. The look in her eyes makes it clear that she would leap over the desk and wreck vengeance on the nearest target if provoked. The clerk knows no fear.

They start rattling off monotone directions. "There's several places you'll want to check out. You can follow route 65 North to Old Hickory Road 2 miles..."

"Is there an address we could use?" The clerk blinks. "In our GPS?" Arthurs voice goes even higher as he tries to infuse it with even more cheer.

"No."

"Oh, nothing even nearby?" The clerk's mouth slips slowly downward. "Alright then. Do you perhaps have a map?" The clerk sighs, shuffles down the counter, and digs one out from behind the desk. They take out a blue pen that blends in with half the lines on the map, follows some of them, and circles a few spots. Then they hand the map over and turn away. "Ah, thank you," Arthur calls after them.

Map in hand they head out to the car. "You sounded like you swallowed a balloon in there." Elizabeta says.

Arthur scoffs. "It worked."

"Not because of your acing."

She pins it into the bars of her air conditioning, takes a few minutes to memorize the lines, and tears out of parking lot. They don't talk through the drive. Elizabeta is too focused to speak and Arthur is typing as few words as possible to as few people as he can manage. His oldest brother still calls him to yell at him over making them worry. If he notices that Arthur is unusually just taking it, he doesn't say so.

The first circled spot is right off the side of the road. They slow the car down but drive past without stopping. They both know there's no way that's the place they're looking for. It's far too close to humanity and it's tiny, maybe two rooms total.

The second circle is much more likely. It's far off the road and is surrounded by thick trees. Only the highest parts of the building break through the tree line. They pull off the main road and stop. Thick weeds grow up through the cracked concrete. Crawling from the tree line, saplings and vines try to overtake the road.

Elizabeta drums her fingers on the steering wheel. "Do we go closer?"

"It doesn't look too far from here. We can walk the rest of the way. It'll be quieter." They leave everything in the car but the frying pan. If they were here for any other reason, it would have been peaceful. Several times they freeze because of a noise only to find a deer staring back at them or rabbits disappearing into the underbrush.

Halfway there Arthur hears another set of footsteps joins them. "What are you doing?"

Elizabeta swings her frying pan at Alfred's head. He moves out of her way inhumanly fast.

"Good afternoon Alfred," Arthur says coldly even though his heart is beating wildly in his chest.

"Afternoon Arthur. What are you doing here?"

"What we said were going to do in the first place," Elizabeta growls. She has stopped swinging her frying pan but she's still holding it at the ready.

"Did you guys even have breakfast?"

"Does it even matter?"

Alfred frowns with excessive concern. "It's the most important meal of the day." Elizabeta's mouth twitches.

"There are more important things to do."

"But-"

Elizabeta thrusts the frying pan into Alfred's face. "Cut the crap."

Alfred pouts and crossing his arms. "Don't be so rude."

"Oh, pardon me for being more concerned with my kidnapped boyfriend. Seriously how would you react if your loved one was in danger?"

That seems to get a genuine reaction from Alfred. His face hardens and suddenly Arthur remembers all the stories about the wrath of gods raining down. "You have no idea what you're talking about. This is dangerous."

Arthur decides that it's time for them to stop. Alfred and Elizabeta are clearly only riling each other up and solving nothing. "We already agreed to it."

Alfred rolls his eyes. "And it's still dangerous. How did you even find me?"

"It wasn't that hard."

"Humor me?"

Arthur shifts his weight and holds onto his arms. Everything he has in conjecture and there's a chance he's completely off base. If he's wrong could Alfred stop them? Does it matter? He was right after all. "You couldn't have gone far without Elizabeta and they seem to have a preference for crumbling hide outs."

"That's a lot of speculation." Alfred laughs a little at that but stops when Arthur gives him a look. The god's eyes soften. "Smartie."

"We'll wait outside."

Alfred runs his hands up his neck and over his hair. He sighs so deeply his whole body moves with it. "Fine. You win. Just please actually stay outside."

"Provided you do everything in your power to bring Roderich back safely and you explain everything afterwards." Elizabeta intensely watches his every word.

There's a flash of something in Alfred's eyes. Arthur's aware that he should probably be afraid of that. But he simply isn't. "I can't give you everything."

Arthur bites the inside of his cheek. "We're not going to ask for the answers to life, death, and secrets of everything."

"I'm not going to make a promise I can't keep."

"Then only promise what you can."

"You're so…," Alfred makes a noise that's half growl and half moan, "I'll bring him back safely and answer what I can."

Arthur holds his hand out. "Make it a vow."

"A vow?" Alfred shifts like some of Arthur's classmates do when a teacher asks them to hand over the notes they were passing around. "I…Yeah." He snatches up Arthur's hand. He presses his lips quickly to it like he's being burned. "I vow it."

Then he spins away, taking the lead on their mission. Arthur's whole face has gone red. It feels like there's cotton in his windpipe. Elizabeta doesn't say a word about it but her shoulders are just as tense as when she first realized Alfred had left them.

Alfred stops them before they step out of the tree line around the building. They crouch behind some bushes. The abandoned factory is made primarily of bricks and rust. All of it is covered with leaves.

Alfred's head bobs up and down as he examines the surroundings. There are no obvious signs of gods, ghosts, or anything other than squirrels. He makes a noise in the back of his throat then turns to them both. "Ok. So, I'm going in, just stay here."

"Yeah we know," Elizabeta says.

"Yeah I know you know. Just listen. If I'm not back by night fall just go back to the motel."

"You have a credit card," Arthur asks as Elizabeta repeats, "night fall?"

"Yeah of course. And I'll be back before then, but you know just in case. And also, back to the credit card, maybe we'll get milkshakes or something afterwards." Both of them just stare at him. "Anyways, I'm going now."

The god creeps out of the bushes and disappears around the corner of the building. The high schoolers watch intently as nothing happens. Arthur settles down and Elizabeta glares at him. Then she picks up her frying pan and starts moving through the bush.

"Elizabeta?" She keeps moving. Leaves tangle in her ponytail. "We shouldn't-"

She tries to look over her shoulder, but the branches threaten to take out her eye. She has to back out of the bushes to face him. "Why shouldn't we? Kirkland, do you honestly think we can trust him?"

The question catches him off guard. She had been the one who wanted to charge into the haunted house that they believed had a boyfriend-stealing demon in it. "I'm not. It's just-"

Elizabeta scoffs and tosses her ponytail. Leaves fly into Arthur's face. "Just what? Why should we trust him? He never told us why he was trying to find them. For all we know he's working with them."

"He's helping us find Roderich. Why would he-"

"I don't know." She bites her lip. Then she takes hold of Arthur's arm and squeezes. "Listen to me Arthur. You can't trust him." Arthur opens his mouth to say something, anything to defend himself or Alfred. He doesn't know which. "Don't interrupt. I'm all about following your gut, normally. I know you want to believe him but listen to your head. He said, "Artie, I bet it's not the worst thing you've eaten." How in the world did he know that?"

Arthur takes a deep breath. "First off, I am not a bad cook, even if you've heard otherwise. He was just being an ass. It wasn't based on anything."

She slaps his arm with an open palm. "I don't mean the cooking comment. He called you Artie last night. I wasn't imagining it, even like ten minutes ago he called you Arthur. You introduced yourself as Oliver." She swallows thickly and stares into his eyes. "How did he know your name?"

Arthur pulls out of her grasp. A cold dread lodges in his throat. For a moment he can't speak. He doesn't have an answer. The way Alfred acted seemed so natural that he hadn't noticed.

Elizabeta sighs deeply. "You can stay out here if you want. You don't have anything to lose in this."

"No. I've come this far."

They creep up to the building. Elizabeta peers into the nearest window. The brick crumbles under her hand. They both freeze at the resulting noise. When nothing happens, they move as quietly as they can through.

It's dim and dusty inside. The room is small. Shelves line the walls but there's nothing else. They have to keep looking.

Every sound feels muffled but echoes around them. They are both very aware of every breath they take. Every creak of their shoes sounds like an alarm going off. They stay so close together that their fingers brush almost every other step. It may be a useless effort but there's a comfort in knowing they're not alone. They go through several identical rooms without incent or clues. An ominous feeling slowly builds in Arthurs chest.

He hears it first several rooms away and it barely registers to him. It's so far away that he could mistake it for the wind moving through the walls. Then it comes closer. It sounds like something between a whistle and a song. Then before he can say anything, the sound is in the room with them.

The noise rises to a sharp pitch. Elizabeta buckles. He lungs to catch her. It's not graceful or easy. His knees give out under the additional weight. He crashes painfully to the ground. He tips her head back. There's no blood or other signs of injury. It's as if she's just asleep.

The sound has stopped. He feels a presence behind him. He's doesn't want to look. Something inside him is screaming that he shouldn't. Whatever it is, it's dangerous. He looks.

A figure pushes shoulder length hair back as they lean close to him. The pale blonde hair sweeps back immediately. Pale blue eyes examine him. Although the shade is different there's that something in those eyes that also lurks in Alfred's. Arthur knows exactly what he's looking at. He can feel a curse behind his teeth but only a hiss comes out.

The god smiles at him and they're gone.

"Let me go," Arthur screeches. Whatever this god has planned, he won't go quietly. He flails, repeatedly jabbing his elbows back into the one holding him. It has no effect. He leans as far forward as he can. He brings his foot up and rams it towards their crotch. The figure dumps him on the ground.

"Oh no, that's enough of that."

Arthur scrambles around on the ground. His palms burn and smear blood. He stumbles to his feet.

"Look at you," the god behind him coos. "You're so…spirited." The blue-eyed god is laughing into his hand.

Now that he's not being held Arthur doesn't know what to do. He looks around the room. There are two others in the room. One lounges on a crumbling stack of boxes. He can see deeply tanned skin and dark curls on their head. This one would seem human if he ignored the prevalent sense of otherness that radiates from his every pore. The second figure he recognizes from Elizabeta's description. It's the devil with red eyes, he's dressed in black but the rest of him is pure white. He would say that they're albino but that he looks more like marble and snow than flesh.

The devil grins at him and the blue-eyed god. Then he laughs. The sound has more in common with thunder and breaking glass than anything Arthur's heard come out of a human throat. "Look what I found," the blue-eyed god brags.

"You should have left it where you found it," the tanned god says as he turns away. Logically Arthur knows that this reaction is preferable to being eaten or similarly harassed but he can't help but feel a little insulted. Actually, he's more than a little insulted. Why even take him if they were just going to ignore him?

The blue-eyed god laughs harder than before. There's a story there and Arthur hopes to be long gone before he hears it. "His companion is still in the hallway," he says with a gesture. Arthur follows the motion with his eyes. If he can get to Elizabeta they can escape.

The devil scowls. It's strange to see his features move. There's something in Arthur's mind that screams that he shouldn't be able to do that. Then as the god stands Arthur forgets the strangeness as he catches a glimpse of deep blue. He knows that shade of blue. He's been surrounded by it every week as he sits in class or dresses in the mornings. It has to be Roderich or at least his jacket.

The devil heads towards the exit and Elizabeta. One moment he is there and the next he's gone. He must be just as fast as Alfred and that can't be good for them. He doesn't know what kind of gods these are or even what Alfred is capable of. Three on one isn't the kind of odds he likes. That is assuming Alfred actually plans to fight them.

He can suddenly picture the betrayal so clearly. Alfred could show up out of nowhere, a cutting smile and an unmatched bravado. He'd get along marvelously with the other laughing blue-eyed god. Christ, they could be brothers. It's just as Elizabeta pointed out, they have no reason to trust him. The thought only becomes more likely to him and more painful the longer he dwells on it.

He swallows the bitter ideas down. He doesn't have time for them. Whether or not Alfred is on their side, he can't just wait around for something to happen. He inches away from the blue-eyed god, not only to put some distance between, but also so he can get closer to Roderich.

A steel hand clamps down on his elbow. He's hauled back towards the blue-eyed god. "Now _mon ami_ , would you care to tell me what you're doing here?"

He considers lying and then thinks better of it. Lying hasn't gotten him anywhere yet. He thrusts his chin upwards and puts the cold look in his eyes he's seen his brothers get before they throw a fist. If he's going to do this, he's going to do it bravely. He points his free arm towards the bit of coat he can see. "I'm here for him."

The god's brow wrinkles. He seems to be genuinely confused. He tilts his head to the side. "For him? Whatever for?"

"What does it matter?"

The god clicks his tongue and shakes a finger at Arthur. "Oh no, that is not how we play this game. I'll let you try again."

"You stole him. I'm here to bring him back."

"How arrogant." He brushes his hair back once more. It shimmers in the dim lighting. "I wasn't even the one who did it. But more importantly, what makes you think he was stolen and isn't meant to be here."

"If he's meant to be here, I'm sure he would say so."

"Ah," the god sighs sadly, "but he's asleep right now."

"And just why is he asleep?" He's gone too far. Alfred might have entertained his sass, but he has no guarantee that this one will.

The new god glares down at him. His lips are pinched. Then the corner of his mouth twitches. He throws his head back and laughs delightfully. "Come now, little rabbit, what do you really want?"

Little Rabbit, Arthur repeats silently with scorn. Where the hell did that come from? Is that all mortals are to these gods? To his own astonishment Arthur keeps his bold tone steady. "I told you already."

"And maybe that is true but that can't be everything you want. I know better than to trust you." Arthur's heart leaps. "Tell me."

"No."

"Tell me. I can help you." There's a promise in his voice. It's sweet and soft and can't be trusted. Arthur has no doubt of that.

"No."

The god reaches out. Arthur tries to move away but the god has him before he can take more than a step. The god cradles his face between his palms. His hands are so soft. Arthur's winces and cranes his head as far away as he can. It's not very far. The god moves closer. "Tell me."

"It's not for you." The admission makes no sense to Arthur, but the god understands. He abruptly releases him. The teenager stumbles forward. His eyes fly open as he hits the ground again.

The god frowns down at him. "So stubborn." He crotches down so that he's level with Arthur's eyes. Their position reminds Arthur of paintings of peasants begging kings for mercy. He hates it. He wonders what would happen if he rammed his head into the gods. It might not do a damned thing, but it would be worth it to knock the god down a peg.

"If it's not for me," the god says mockingly, "then who would you say it is for?"

"Just let him go, Francis. He's useless like this." Crates groan under him as the tanned god finally interjects.

"I think not." A light springs to life on the tips of his fingers. It's bright, tinged with silvery blue, and so very cold. Arthur's stomach drops to his feet as his heart pounds. He doesn't know what that piece of magic is for, but he doubts it's anything good for him. The god, Francis, reaches out.

Arthur scrambles backwards. Francis follows him leisurely. He doesn't make it very far. Cold hands descend onto him as the devil pulls him upwards.

Arthur doesn't manage to get his feet back under him by the time the light is shining right before his eyes. It hurts to look at it in a way he can't begin to comprehend. It's not a physical reaction. He squeezes his eyes shut as tightly as he can.

"Hold still little rabbit this won't hurt, much." The joke still lingers in Francis's voice. But there's more softness, almost a familiarity. He's done this before. "I just need some answers."

"Hey, cool place you've got here." Arthur's eyes fly open. Everyone has frozen. He follows the voice upwards.

Alfred is leaning against a thick steel pillar in the rafters. He's smiling wide and cheerfully. He looks delighted to be up there, like a child that's managed to climb to the top a tree he's constantly been warned to stay out of. He's holding something that is shining with a bright golden light.

Arthur's stomach churns and cramps with worry.

"You," the tanned god cries out in anger. His eyes flare green. The devil starts to curse violently. Arthur's ears start to ring.

Francis's eyes fall back to Arthur still trapped in the devil's grip. Through the ringing, Arthur can hear his whisper perfectly. "You brought him here."

"Yep it's me. Your boy." Alfred leans forward, grasping the pillar in one hand. He swings a foot over the ledge tauntingly. Red dust falls down. "And I'd be super appreciative if you'd all just calm down and cooperate. We all know how this goes."

"Like hell."

Alfred shrugs. His smile turns into something sharper. "Suit yourself."

The light in his hand flairs. He tightens his hand into a fist. The light shatters. The escaping light beams pierce his skin. They rip away the veil of humanity Alfred wears. They sink into him, tear him apart, pour out from him. The light becomes claws and fangs. Wings sprout out. He doesn't know how many. The light spreads out. It touches every inch of the ceiling.

After that point, the transformation Alfred undergoes from the handsome young man Arthur met into the something beautifully terrifying he truly is, is indescribable. It will haunt his sweetest dreams and his darkest nightmares equally.

Alfred plummets to the ground. His light-wings follow after like water flowing over a cliff.

One of the gods lets out a battle cry. They spring forward becoming something other in between their steps. Their screams are a heavenly chorus of bloodlust and desperation.

Arthur's vision swims. He can't fathom what's occurring. He sees flashes of light and dark shapes and feels like he's going blind the longer he looks. He should try to escape now. He needs to flee. But he can't summon the strength to do so. His body is heavy. He feels like he's drifting above it. Nothing makes sense.

What's going on?

"You really don't know?" He's in Francis's arms. "Of course, you don't." The words are hissed out like a curse. For a moment, the god looks like he'll slit Arthur's throat. But then his blue eyes soften. His next words are murmured pityingly. "Oh Arthur, what did he tell you he was?"

His tongue is thick and slow in his mouth. It moves several times before Arthur can shape it into words. Still the god waits patiently even as the battle rages before them. A part of him doesn't want to say the words. He wants to scream and run away and never look away from the miracle before him. He shouldn't feel that way. It's a trick. He's been used. He's been a fool. The thing that called itself Alfred has used him in a cosmic game and Arthur never suspected it.

No. Arthur, knowing all that he knew about stories people tell themselves to feel in control and all the things that lurk in their world that can't be controlled or truly known, swallowed all those lies. He chose to believe.

"Beginnings," he whispers heartbroken.

The god laughs darkly. He pulls Arthur up. He does it tenderly, careful of the limbs the teenager can't control. He cradles him against his chest and walks so smoothly Arthur feels like he's flying. The god carries him out of the building. Arthur feels no fear. He thinks, without reason to, that this god will not abuse him. Not right now. And then he thinks he's being fooled again.

Outside there is a normal type of quiet. He can hear crickets and cars passing in the distance. There's no trace of the battle inside. Elizabeta is lying on her back in a cluster of flowers. Her arms are crossed over her chest and her hair is fanned out beneath her. Someone has braided tiny white flowers into her hair. He can't help but think of poor drowned Ophelia. He hopes she has more than tragedy in her fate.

Roderich is still in there. Arthurs fingers twitch. He moves his leg. His range of movement is limited by the god's arm and the heaviness that still lingers in him.

Francis adjusts him and glances at Elizabeta. A tiny laugh escapes him as he leans Arthur against a wall. His hand slips behind Arthur's head. He brings him closer.

Arthur tries to lean away. Francis makes an expression that is neither joy nor mockery. It's a heavy look that makes Arthur want to hide and fight all at once. It's almost a smile. He lunges forward pressing his mouth to the space behind Arthur's ear. He leaves a kiss there and laughs once more. "You would not let me touch you like this before," the god says into his hair.

He rocks back and looks at Elizabeta. "It would take much more to hurt her than what she's been through. Forgive me for my tricks?" Arthur only glares at him. He's strong enough to wipe his hand against the spot Francis kissed. "Of course not."

Francis slowly stands. He watches Arthur. It feels like he's waiting for something, an answer that Arthur doesn't have and doesn't even know the question. He clicks his tongue. "Most mortals would not survive seeing what you have seen today. At the very least they don't stay sane. He's so reckless. You should think about that later."

He brushes nonexistent dirt off his clothes. Then he shots an almost impish smirk at him. "He won't catch me, not yet. I know him too well." The smile falls off his face. "I suppose this is in part my fault."

He sighs. He sounds tired. He looks perfect in every way but the eyes. Those blue depths look haunted. The dying light of the sun catches in his hair. The reds and oranges frame his form. It's a beautiful setting for a confession.

"Death," Francis whispers. "He's the death of us all."

A warm breeze caresses them and then he is gone. Arthur does not move from his spot. He watches the moon and the stars slowly appear. He lets his mind drift. He keeps hearing the echoes of everything he's been told.

And he waits.

* * *

Flowers tumble out of Elizabeta's hair as she wakes up. Her eyes go wide as she looks at Arthur. "What just happened? What happened to you?" Arthur rakes a hand over his face and groans. "Is…where's Roderich?"

"We should wait in the car." Arthur pushes himself up. He's surprised that his knees don't quake. Elizabeta hesitates. "It will be ok."

He starts down the cracked road. It's several long moments before she follows. The sounds of branches scraping on branches and the distant cries of owls follow them back. They see the highway lights long before they see they car. They wait in the car sinking into the seats and staring out the windshield.

A twig snaps at the edge of the tree line. It's Alfred's only warning to them. He emerges cloaked once more in his human skin. No trace of the burning lights remain, except for those hidden in his eyes.

Elizabeta cries out. It's wordless noise but filled with joy. She rushes forward the moment she sees them desperate to touch Roderich. Alfred shifts him around in his arms so that she can see for herself that he's unharmed. Tears run down her cheeks as her fingers trace the arch of his eyebrows and his cheekbones.

Alfred sets him down in the backseat of the car. Elizabeta scrambles in afterwards. Arthur watches their reflection in the windshield. He can taste bitter betrayal on his tongue and hot anger is rising from his core.

Alfred meets his eyes in the windshield's reflection. He leans closer to Elizabeta and murmurs something in her ear. She nods frantically in response. It's like she's forgotten all her suspicions in favor of the results. He pats the side of the car as he withdraws and turns to Arthur.

Arthur clutches his arms as subtly as he can manage. Elizabeta turns to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes are still watering but she has the smallest smile for him. He knows what she won't say. Be careful. Do what you have to.

He storms into the woods without a word. Elizabeta had never believed in the supernatural before Roderich was taken and she should have the choice to return to her life without knowing anymore. But Arthur can't leave things like this. Whatever Alfred has to say, he needs to hear it.

Neither of them say anything until Arthur stumbles across a small gap in the trees. It's much further than he had to go for this conversation to stay private. The moonlight gives them just enough light to see each other.

For once, there is no trace of humor on Alfred's face. "You're mad at me." He pauses, expecting a response that Arthur refuses to surrender just yet. "If there was any way to avoid that I would have."

Arthur lets all his frustrations explode. He's been manipulated. He's been threatened. And now he's had enough. "Oh, shut up! You lied to me. You're not the God of New Beginnings," he says mockingly. "You're death personified."

"And that's such a bad thing," Alfred whispers bitterly. A muscle in his jaw jumps. His scoff is a full body motion. "Death is just a new state of being. I know they don't like it, but it is a part of life."

"You were going to kill them," Arthur states with acidic finality. "You already have."

The arrogance drains out of Alfred quickly. "Will you just listen to me instead of being all cranky and judgey for a minute."

"No. You used me, and you lied to me, and now you're just acting like I'm being unreasonable about murder."

Alfred closes his eyes. "It's not like that."

Arthur's arm slices through the air like he can destroy Alfred's words. "Yes, it's exactly like that."

Alfred's eyes spring open, sparks of rage inside them. "Fine I lied. And I used you but only because you were going to do it anyways. At least this way you weren't charging headfirst into danger."

"Would they have hurt me? You said Roderich was safe and he seems to be. Were we even in any danger? Just what was that light that Francis had?"

Alfred crosses his arms but keeps his eyes locked on Arthur. "You wouldn't have been hurt but it wouldn't good for you."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"It's the only one I can give you."

"Well it's nothing then." Arthur moves to go back to the car. If Alfred is so quick to throw away every promise he made, then this is just a waste of time at best. At worse it's something that will haunt him.

As his shoulders brush by Alfred's the god speaks. "Do you ever think that maybe there's some things you're better off not knowing?"

"No."

Alfred laughs at that. It's not a pretty sound. Secrets still linger in him but they're not ones that bring him any joy. "Then you should really let me explain. Most importantly, it's really not like you think. I'm not the bad guy here. It's not murder. They don't die. I mean, they do but it doesn't last long."

Arthur pauses then slowly turns around. He makes sure that Alfred isn't any closer to him. "Explain."

Some of the tension leaves Alfred's shoulders as he begins. His hands move to articulate each word. "The world is changing. People's ideals, values, and the world around them is changing. It's not bad and it's not good. It's just what it is. But Gods aren't that fluid. They take a form and they stick to their rituals and traditions. They don't change easily and that's neither good nor bad, but it can't be allowed to continue on forever. So, the Old Gods have to die. And that's my job."

"That's still murder."

Alfred lets out a frustrated breath. "They know it's coming. They've always known. They just don't like it." He frowns for a moment before he brushes a thought away. "And like I said, they don't remain dead."

Arthur leans back into the bark of a tree. He's not yet satisfied but his craving for answers is being fed, slowly. "So, what happens to them?"

"They're reborn as humans. Some of them will become gods again. Either way, I don't think it's so bad. It's even freeing, not having all these duties and expectations of you. I think they have a real chance at happiness this way. What do you think Arthur?"

"What do I think?"

"Yeah. Are you happy?"

Arthur goes red. It's not a question he's heard often. People have the habit of assuming that if you're not falling apart, you're happy. In reality he's found most people are too busy to contemplate if they're really happy, let alone honestly ask someone else. He tries to answer honestly.

He spends the majority of his time at school. He doesn't have many people he would call friends, but he does well in his studies. And when he's not at school he's often buried in a book. His brothers annoy him to know end and his parents… He remembers all their frantic calls last night. "I well…I- It's not easy."

"No. It's not," Alfred agrees.

His family has always worried too much over him. His brothers threaten to beat upperclassmen bloody if they bother him. His grandmother always fills his plate far too full. His father brings back little carved trinkets from his business trips and Arthur lines them up by his windowsill. The figures of small animals and dragons glimmer in the mornings, his little reminders of ever-present love even given the distance. And those calls last night…they were so worried for him.

"I suppose I am."

Alfred smiles so wide it's like he shines and for a moment Arthur questions if he really is. After tonight he knows it's possible. "Great! I'm glad to hear it."

"What about you?" The question is out before Arthur can second guess himself. He wants to know, he's never been satisfied with half a tale before and maybe he does want to know some of the secrets of death after all.

Alfred's head tilts to the side. "What about me?"

"Do you…die?"

"Well yeah. Everyone does eventually." Alfred rubs his hands together like he's wiping away dust. "But I have a ton of work to do before then. Then I'll die and be reborn. And I'm well," he rubs the back of his neck, "I'm looking forward to seeing everyone happy again."

"So, you're leaving?" It's jarring to think of driving back into their hometown after this. It seems impossible to think that he can just slip back into his life as it was with no changes.

"Yeah. No rest for the wicked and all that." Alfred approaches him and Arthur lets him. He thrusts out a hand and when Arthur takes it, he shakes it like everything they've done since meeting has been some kind of profitable business transaction.

"Will I…" Arthur hadn't meant to say that. It was so easy to trust Alfred. He fell into the rhythms of friendly conversation too easily.

"Will you?" He swipes his thumb along Arthur's hand.

"Will I see you again?"

"Yeah. You will." Alfred's smile is a soft thing with far more secrets in it. Arthur sees them and can't speak for how breathless he is. "I can't wait to see you again."

* * *

When the end of day bell rings Arthur is hunched over his desk scribbling in a notebook. It's already showing signs of abuse and he's only started on it last night. Of course, falling asleep with it under his covers hadn't helped.

Elizabeta comes up to him before he can pact it away. Her smile is awkward. They've never really talked before Roderich's kidnapping so there's no normal for them to return to. He hadn't even felt the need to prepare anything to say to her. It was over, they had said their thank yous when she had dropped him off at his house.

"So that was…something," she says.

"Yes, I guess you could say that if you didn't want to say anything at all." Arthur winces. He hadn't meant to sound so cutting.

Elizabeta snorts. "Give me a break Kirkland, it's not like I have anything to compare it to."

"True." He glances at the classroom door. He can see a thin shadow through the tinted glass. "Is Roderich doing well?"

"He is. He doesn't remember a lot of what happened, but he says he's inspired."

"Inspired?"

"He hasn't stopped composing since we got back." She smiles down at his desk. "It looks like he's not the only one." Arthur reflexively tugs his notebook even closer.

She laughs a little bit at that. Then she shifts nervously and pushes her hair behind her ears. "So, I was thinking…do you want to do it again? Well not exactly the same thing, I can do without the kidnapping, but something similar."

"I'm grounded." That's not the answer he should give. He should point out that he's never had an interest in practicing witchcraft, that he has no desire to start making charms or preforming exorcisms. He never actually thought he'd run into anything supernatural and they'd never encountered anything of the sort until recently. He should refuse.

Elizabeta grins. "Me too. But after that?"

A smile tugs on Arthur's lips. "What did you have in mind?"

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote at the beginning is from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad Gita. It was reportedly the first thing that J. Robert Oppenheimer thought of after the first Atomic Bomb test. He was the director of the lab.
> 
> I can't believe that this ended up being so long. I hope the ending was a satisfying one. Your thoughts are always appreciated.
> 
> Not sure if I'll ever come back to this AU but I picture Arthur, Elizabeta, and Roderich becoming like a monster hunting trio having all sorts of adventures. Elizabeta being the muscle who finds out about the monsters from locals because she can actually talk to people. Arthur acting like he's the rational one before jumping headfirst into danger. And Roderich being the actual ration one just trying to keep them all alive.
> 
> They'd get into all sorts of messes and adventures. Maybe post high school graduation they'd probably cross paths with Alfred again. But that's not the meeting again Alfred meant in the above. He's constantly like Dude! What the hell are you even…?! And maybe Arthur finally stops being dazzled by him enough to start to put two and two together.

**Author's Note:**

> The quote at the beginning is from the book of Revelations, a part of the Christian Bible.
> 
> This was going to be a oneshot but it got too long. Part two will be up in a week or two.


End file.
